


Runnin' Up That Hill

by warpcores



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, bones taking spock's place during stid was not a good idea, fuck why did i do this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warpcores/pseuds/warpcores
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The very first thing Leonard thought was, '<i>I can’t see his eyes</i>.’</p><p>The next was realizing how his throat closed up, chest burning, eyes watering, making it hard for him to even breathe as his mind began to comprehend what was going on, the facts sinking into his very bones. This was what Scotty had called him down for, and it was all he could do not to fall to his knees, carefully lowering himself down with shaky ankles and weak thighs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Runnin' Up That Hill

The very first thing Leonard thought was, ‘ _I can’t see his eyes_.’

The next was realizing how his throat closed up, chest burning, eyes watering, making it hard for him to even breathe as his mind began to comprehend what was going on, the facts sinking into his very bones. This was what Scotty had called him down for, and it was all he could do not to fall to his knees, carefully lowering himself down with shaky ankles and weak thighs. 

Fingertips ghosting over the glass, cold and hard and deadly, Leonard looked to Scotty, knowing he looked as desperate as he felt. “Can you open it?” 

“No,” he shook his head, voice shaking, swallowing bile before he finished, “you’d flood the whole compartment.”

He felt pure fury, beneath the shock, but not at Scott, not at Jim… perhaps at himself, for failing at the very thing he tried to do best, whether it was being a doctor, or saving Jim. Swallowing thickly himself, he turned his gaze back to the man on the other side, who looked pale and sunken and mostly dead, and a quiet whine escaped his lips. His palms pressed harder into the glass, as if he were trying to push it away, despite the fact that it was ten times stronger than he was, stronger than he could ever hope to be.

“Jim,” he whispered, voice cracked and broken, frayed around the edges, much like how he felt, “ _Jim_.”

Blue eyes fluttered open, and Leonard’s breath caught, but it wasn’t relief, because he realized that if Jim wasn’t already dead, he would be soon, and he would be right there, watching it happen. He wanted to run, to flee, far, far away where his thoughts and emotions couldn’t follow, but he was glued in his place. Jim’s eyes were bloodshot, no longer the perfect clarity that he so often prided himself in. He looked angry and sad and upset and  _scared_ , and the fact that it was bright as day, obvious on his face, made Leonard’s heart break. It was cracking away, bit by bit, and he was sure by the time it was all over he would have nothing left.

“ _Bones_ ,” Jim said, making it sound as though he were some long-lost messiah. He wanted to shake his head, to tell him he was only a failure, but he could only remain silent, mouth forming words that couldn’t make it past his tight throat. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Oh, God,” he creaked, mouth moving numbly, like his tongue was being weighed down by the gravity of Jupiter, the roof scratchy like sandpaper, “Oh my  _God_.”

“How’s the ship?” Jim asked softly. Leonard was often startled and constantly in awe by the man in front of him, as Jim shone brighter than any star he had ever known, but he was slowly, but surely, dimming right there in front of him. Still, he wondered, very briefly in the back of his mind, how the man dying of radiation poisoning sounded better off than he did. 

Forcing himself to blink back the tears that were blurring his view of Jim’s slowly relaxing face, Leonard spoke quickly, words rushing out of his mouth, nearly blurring together, as if trying to save precious time. He couldn’t lose sight, couldn’t lose focus, Jim’s last moments were far too valuable. “Stable. We’re going to make it.” Leonard sounded like a lost man who got the breath knocked out of him, he noticed, cringing into himself, like a turtle into its shell. Jim’s eyes opened just a little bit wider, as if he were trying to force himself to see as much as he could. Even though he looked like hell, Leonard could tell his expression was soft, admiring, sorry.

A soft breath came through Jim’s lips, making his body shudder with the effort. Leonard tensed, muscles burning along with his eyes, nearly shaking from it all. His heart pounded, and he was sure his blood pressure was rising, his heart almost working too hard. 

“Jim, you can’t— you can’t come back from this.”

There was a curt nod, and fuck, fuck, fuck, why was that acceptance in Jim’s eyes?

“I know, Bones.”

With his palms still sticking to the glass, cold sweat keeping them from sliding, Leonard leaned forward, resting his forehead against the flat surface, eyes locked with Jim’s the entire time. “Jim,  _please_.” To be perfectly honest, he wasn’t sure what he was begging for— or to. For Jim, to pull through just this one more time, or maybe even begging his god, asking for a miracle that could save not only Jim’s life, but his own. Space was dark and cold without light to warm and guide you. Leonard just needed  _something_.

“D’you remember the academy?” Jim slurred, asking right out of the blue, tone casual despite Leonard’s impending breakdown. 

There was a sharp breath, and then, “Of course.”

Jim’s own breaths were getting shallower, eyes moving but not quite seeing all the way, words farther and farther apart. “Remember… that time I stole one of your detox hypos and… injected myself with it?”

“Yes,” Leonard said softly, despite the fact that he had no idea where his dearest friend was going, “you nearly killed yourself.”

“You were so angry… but only because… you were afraid I would get hurt.” Jim paused, gathering his breath, before saying weakly, yet with all of the confidence in the world, “That was the first time I realized I was in love with you.”

Whatever escaped Leonard’s lips was definitely a sob, though there was another whine that came with it. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, but he couldn’t, instead, he let his body shake, let the wetness of his tears run down his cheeks. In the distance, Scotty was murmuring something, two pairs of footsteps echoing off of the equipment. Leonard didn’t notice. 

“Idiot,” he hissed, “you  _idiot_. I love you too, oh Lord help me, do I love you.” Jim shifted, turning onto his side, arm barely raising to let his fingers slam across the glass. Leonard matched his movements, as graceful as the dying man in front of him, leveling his fingers up with his, shoulders bent forward so far they were nearly touching the glass, just a hair of space between it. 

“Bones…”

“ _I love you, I love you, I love you_ …” he couldn’t say it, the damned sound wouldn’t come through, but he mouthed it, strange sounds coming out of his mouth that not even leaving Jo could have produced from him. Jo wasn’t leaving him forever, though, Jim was. 

While Leonard was vehemently shaking, Jim stilled, the strings of life that were keeping together finally falling apart. 

His eyes cleared of emotion, going flat, body relaxing, yet stiffening all the same. His hand squeaked against the glass, falling, slowly slipping to the ground next to his body. Leonard pushed, pushed against the glass harder, against himself, hoping to hurt his flesh in a way that would make the torment of his sudden loss bearable. 

“… Jim? Jim? Jim! Christ, Jim, darlin’, don’t do this— I love you, oh God, please,  _James_ —” two strong, solid, sturdy hands gripped him from under his arms, as though he were just a child throwing a tantrum. Leonard thrashed, kicking and slapping, fighting with all he had. “Dammit, Spock, let me go or I swear—”

When stiff fingers slipped against the base of his neck, he stiffened, begging, “Oh no, please, Spock, _please_ — don’t!”

For once, in his rebellious, Vulcan-lead life, Spock listened. He dragged Leonard’s mostly-limp body out of the engine room with a precision and sense of purpose that scared him to his very core. Once he left the doors, two security guards escorted him to the Sick Bay. 

Chapel insisted, bless that woman. 

While Spock went out on his murderous rampage, green blood boiling like split-pea soup, Leonard sank into his claimed chair by his desk, lost without his purpose, listening to the silent room around him. Breaths were held, actions were stilled, and— was that  _purring_?

* * *

“Hey, Bones,” Jim said, voice soft and light, stress-free (although that may have been the drugs.) His blue eyes crinkled, hair catching the sunlight from the window, shining even brighter than the white hospital gown could. He was alive, breathing, blood pumping through his heart and new, healthy cells being made. 

Leonard let out a relieved sigh, gripping a nearby table for support. “Hey, Jim.”


End file.
